


When Snow Melts

by bookwyrmling



Series: Seasons of Life [2]
Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Canon Compliant, Death is off-screen, F/M, Gen, Grief, Post-Canon, Smoking, Supernatural Elements, This story is about the fallout and recovery from the loss of a loved one, canon-typical alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrmling/pseuds/bookwyrmling
Summary: Spring has always been a season of great change.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to White as Snow.

When Watanuki had been but a mere part-timer for Yuuko -- how many years ago now? he had stopped counting his years as shopkeeper after three decades -- he had been absolutely certain that she could tell the future down to the last minutiae. That she knew everything. Because she was Yuuko and no one was more powerful than Yuuko.

Now that it had been fifty years? sixty? seventy? -- now that he was an experienced shopkeeper -- Watanuki knew better. Yuuko had been able to read people, read the atmosphere, read the supernatural undercurrents that Watanuki had been only partially aware of back then. While he still did not have the years of experience Yuuko had held by the time he came to her shop, Watanuki knew now how to do this, as well.

Inside the shop, the phone rang for the sixth time that hour. Outside, on the veranda, Watanuki’s grip tightened on his glass, nails scraping against glazed ceramic.

The phone rang. It rang and rang until it had rang so many times the call disconnected and Watanuki knocked back his glass. The shop phone did not have voicemail. It did not matter; the shopkeeper could guess at who was on the other end and knew what they had to say.

At his side, on the tray, a single white hair lay stark against lacquered wood and a second cup lay empty, waiting to be filled. Watanuki’s kiseru lay on his smoking tray beside him, smoke trailing up and around, tempting and tugging at his senses, before dispersing into the yard. Watanuki took off his glasses, blinked and stared out at a changed scenery.

Even if he were asked, Watanuki would not be able to say what the outside looked like were he to do this there. After all, he had not set foot beyond the shop’s boundaries since he had taken on its burden as payment. With the kekkai set up around the land, however, placing it in its own world ensconced within another yet separate world, and one of the many existing elsewhere -- including Clow where Sakura still spoke to him from in dreams -- there was a general silence here. The kekkai’s power blocked his view of the physical world he had once been a part of, still bustling with afternoon busyness beyond its bounds, and even the fence was lost to the swirling, rippling blockade. Threads of every color imaginable criss-crossed the yard and house, slipping through the kekkai and walls and even himself, each structure as insubstantial as visions in the mist compared to the solidity of this world he now looked at alone. Each thread moved constantly, shivering with its own frequencies and affecting the movements of the kekkai. Some threads wrapped around each other or tied together, still others fell slack while others pulled taut. New threads snaked through, untouched save for one or two others that held its seeking presence up. An old thread, frayed and lacking the vibrancy of many others, snapped its connection to the silver hair and fell limp, broken, colorless despite the many threads it still tied together.

He stood, round glasses clenched in his fist and walked up to the broken line, fingers of his open hand reaching out to grasp the frayed end and slipping through. Once again, he had lost someone he cared for.

The phone rang for the seventh time, tearing Watanuki from the scene and his musings and he blinked as he slipped his glasses back on, vision returning to a more tangible plane. The sky above showed unfamiliar constellations blending together with skies a color he did not know the name to before the sun broke through once more and a few clouds floated lazily against a familiar faded blue backdrop.

The phone rang again and Watanuki returned to the porch from where he had ended up in the middle of the yard and poured himself another glass before filling the second one, as well.

When the phone finally stopped ringing once more, Watanuki found silence and he finished that glass and yet another. The second cup remained full and untouched and Watanuki stared at it, empty tokkuri dangling between two fingers, before he sighed and forced himself up onto unsteady legs.

He stumbled to the kitchen, nearly tripping on the hem of the improperly tied kimono -- Yuuko’s kimono; it had seemed like an appropriate day to wear one -- and refilled the small carafe just as something tugged at his senses. He sent a glare down the hall from the kitchen’s entrance as the shop’s door opened, knowing he was not due any customers today. The glare disappeared but the individual standing there with red, puffy eyes did not bring a smile of pleasure or welcome to his face, merely an exhaustion and sigh of inevitability. “Asuka…” he greeted reluctantly.

“Watanuki-san, so you are up,” the man at the entrance said with a smile reminiscent of his mother on a face far too much that of his father. Watanuki shoved his body from where he leaned against the wall, kimono spilling open to show off his chest and one leg displayed up to mid-thigh before he slipped once more into the kitchen. The man followed.

“Mother was worried when you wouldn’t pick up,” he explained, “She sent me to check on you...and to-”

“Your cup,” Watanuki interrupted with a grumble, shoving a sake cup into the man’s chest and naming him his drinking partner for the day. Asuka followed, reaching out to catch Watanuki the few times he stumbled, proving how much he had already consumed, only for his assistance to be shoved off. Watanuki took his seat once more in between his pipe tray and the drink tray and Asuka stood behind it, staring at the full cup already on the tray.

“That’s not yours,” Watanuki snapped as he poured himself a glass and set the tokkuri down and Asuka sighed. “So the call wasn’t needed, after all…” he realized before taking careful steps to the other side of the tray and joining Watanuki, legs dangling, feet brushing the ground, wondering if this spot was reserved, as well.

Watanuki’s fingers fumbled as he packed his kiseru, but he recovered, lighting it and taking deep breaths until the tobacco caught and he felt the smoke fill his lungs and wrap him in a blanket of hot, heady comfort.

They drank in silence and the smell of kizami Asuka had grown up with worked with the sake to tickle at his throat.

“It wasn’t just mother that was worried,” Asuka admitted once Watanuki had poured him a refill. The tokkuri clacked against the tray and both men took a drink. “Father kept asking after you, up until the end,” he continued with a softer voice, staring out at the garden, “We kept trying to explain to him, but…” Asuka knocked back the rest of his cup and scrubbed at his eyes. Watanuki was certain the same rough lump in his throat was what caused Asuka pause.

“Stubborn fool,” he growled through clenched teeth and shut eyes, his voice a torn nail catching on a loose thread and he burned the feeling away with another hit from his pipe.

“Ayame was near having a fit when you wouldn’t pick up, too,” Asuka continued with a chagrined smile. “He is going to be busy the next few days, preparing for the wake and funeral,” he continued, “He probably won’t be back to pick up his duties here until after the seventh day’s ceremony. I’ll be in town for that time, at least. I wanted to make sure you had my number and to let you know I’ll be bringing the groceries in the meanwhile. Kaoru is far too pregnant to carry the shopping, though I know she plans on stopping by when she can.”

“That’s not needed. Now is the time for you to spend with family,” Watanuki rebutted as a breeze picked up, dispersing the smoke and sending a shower of cherry blossoms across the yard.

“Watanuki-san, just because you cannot leave your shop doesn’t mean you are not a part of our family,” Asuka argued and poured himself another drink while Watanuki swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “When Mother and Ayame first started talking funereal plans, they were already doing what they could to include you,” the younger man—for all his appearance held decades on Watanuki’s—explained, “She probably won’t ask until after the seventh day, but I know she wanted to offer the ashes to you for a bit before interment.”

Asuka smiled at Watanuki’s shock before adding, “Don’t tell her I told you; I think she wanted it to be a surprise.”

“The...price…” he began, a strangled look on his face and Asuka frowned.

“Is it expensive?” he asked, already making calculations for each member in the family, “I’m sure the family would be happy to take it on as a whole. We just really want to include you however we can and think Father would want this, too.”

Watanuki did not respond for a moment and Asuka watched the shopkeeper warily, but smiled fondly when he caught sight of the glare Watanuki sent at the fence across the yard and the way his throat and jaw worked. “This is a wish of your family?” he finally asked with raw words.

“Yes,” Asuka nodded deeply, “Mother said that when we were all much younger, you promised Father that he would go surrounded by family, but, Watanuki-san, you are a part of that family. It’s not right without you.”

“When Kohane visits with the offer, we can discuss the price,” Watanuki replied, his voice rough and breaking and when the first tear fell, Asuka turned to watch the yard, as well. The cherry tree continued to shed its blossoms in each gust of the spring breeze and soft pink littered the green grass and rich loam that had been turned up for Watanuki’s garden.

It was only much later that night, when he was helping clear the drinks from the porch, that Asuka noticed the third glass—the one neither of them had touched—was now empty save for a singular white hair and Asuka smiled at the familiar smell of his father’s cologne combined with the store’s incense. He would tell Kaoru to drop by as soon as his grandnephew was born. What had she and her husband decided to call him?

Ah, yes. Sayaka.

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this sequel in February a year ago in hopes to post it quickly after White as Snow, but I stumbled into a huge case of block regarding how I wanted the story to progress. Every time I managed to finish one part of it, I'd get stuck on the next and, in frustration, I finally just stopped. This piece has been sitting untouched ever since and I felt so guilty over it, but couldn't gather up the motivation to try to fight with it again.
> 
> Just today, however, I had a reader leave an amazing comment on White as Snow and it reminded me of what I wanted to do with this piece in the first place. So thank you, S.D.P.. This fic exists now because of you.


End file.
